


Homecoming (Holmes' Style)

by NERDGIRL98039



Series: The Adventures of John Watson-Holmes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John Watson, Deducing!John, F/M, Good Brother Sherlock, John Comes Home, John is a Holmes, M/M, good brother mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27064375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NERDGIRL98039/pseuds/NERDGIRL98039
Summary: What if Mycroft and Sherlock had known John before he left for Afghanistan? What if they were there when he came back? What if they were brothers?Filled with Donovan bashing and incredible observations.An AU where John was adopted by the Holmes'.CONTAINS CHILD ABUSE AND VIOLENCE.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Philip Anderson/Sally Donovan, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: The Adventures of John Watson-Holmes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975243
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	Homecoming (Holmes' Style)

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Not mine, unfortunately.

Sherlock Holmes did not have time for this. 

He had a headache and Donovan would not shut up. The rotting smell of the decomposing corpse didn't help either.

"We don't need you," Donovan prattled on. "We can figure this out ourselves. Go back to that disgusting hovel you call a home."

Sherlock, finally fed up with her, whirled around, a myriad of insults on his lips. They all died away when he looked over Donovan's shoulder to where people had begun to gather around the police tape. His gaze locked on one man. He wasn't anything special: blonde hair, short, wearing a tan jumper and plain pants. But, to Sherlock, he was the only thing that mattered.

Lestrade noticed Sherlock was staring and followed his gaze just in time to see the short man disappear into the crowd. Lestrade turned back to Sherlock only to find the man had raced away, calling for a taxi. Only then did Donovan stop talking. Completely confused, the two Yarders watched the consulting detective until he climbed into a cab and drove away.

"He's insane," Donovan said. "I've been warning you for years, boss. He's absolutely bonkers."

Lestrade ignored, though she did have a point. Why would Sherlock just run out during the middle of a case?

>>>>>

Sherlock, meanwhile, fidgeted impatiently in the cab. The cabbie was chattering on about something or other, but Sherlock wasn't listening. His mind was far away, completely focused on the blond man he'd seen.

Finally, the cab pulled up in front of 221b Baker Street. Sherlock jumped out, throwing money to the cabbie as an afterthought. He raced up the front steps and to his flat, only stopping just inside the doorway.

There, standing in front of him, was the blond man from the scene. "John," Sherlock breathed. His eyes raked over the man's body, his brain quickly cataloguing everything about him. _Stance and haircut suggests military, indent on forefinger suggests medic, slight shaking of hand indicates a wound, perhaps a bullet..._

"You were shot!" Sherlock exclaimed, distress evident in his voice. John chuckled.

"I'm alright, Sherlock. It was a through and through. Some damage to the nerves, so I can't be a surgeon, but I'm fine, Sherlock."

Sherlock didn't quite believe him, but decided not to press the issue. Instead, he launched himself forward and dragged John into a hug. "I'm glad you're back," Sherlock murmured. "Medical discharge?"

John only hummed in response, wrapping his arms around the older man's body. The two only separated when heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes just as Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, and other Yarders came into the flat. "Really Gerald? A drug bust now?"

John looked alarmed. "Sherlock, you're not..."

"No," Sherlock said quickly. "I've been clean for years. Unfortunately, some people don't seem to grasp that concept."

The Yarders, who had been quiet up until this point, suddenly starting talking. They fanned out, searching the flat meticulously, but not very carefully. 

"Who is that?" Donovan said, pausing in her ransacking to give John a curious look. 

"You must be Donovan," John said pleasantly. "I wish we could have met in better circumstances. I'm John Watson-Holmes."

The flat fell silent. Donovan choked on air, completely shocked. "You...You're married to _him_?" Donovan asked, sounding horrified. Sherlock looked disgusted while John burst out laughing.

"No, we're not together," John assured her."The Holmes' adopted me when I was nine. We're brothers."

Sherlock gave a John a half smile, which John returned. The Yarders still looked shocked. 

"Oh my god," Donovan moaned. "There's two of them."

"Three, actually," John interjected. "You haven't met Mycroft yet."

Donovan's face paled even more. Lestrade's stare went from Sherlock to John then back to Sherlock again.

Sherlock sighed in annoyance."Honestly did any of you bother doing a background check before I started working with you?"

"Of course we did!" Lestrade said indignantly, having finally found his voice. "But we found nothing about you having brothers!"

"Why are you here now? Come to torture us more with your brother?" 

"It appears Donovan has gotten over her shock," Sherlock commented mildly. "The answer to your question, Donovan, is simple, if you know where to look. John has been in Afghanistan as an Army medic, serving his country. As to why he's here..."

Sherlock looked over at John expectantly. John merely sighed. "I'd rather tell you and Mycroft together so I don't have to repeat myself. Although," John continued, looking thoughtful, "he probably already knows what happened."

"That is probable," Sherlock agreed. "However, I'm sure he still wants to see you. We'll go now." He grabbed John's arm and started towards the door, pulling John behind him.

"You can't go now," Lestrade protested. "Not in the middle of a drug bust."

"Search all you like," Sherlock said carelessly. "You won't find anything worth arresting me over. Don't call me in the next few days for anything lower than a seven."

With that, the two brothers vanished. 

Nobody moved for a moment. Then Lestrade sighed. "Everyone clear out. Leave everything as you found it."

Grumbling slightly, the Yarders obeyed and in minutes the flat was empty. Lestrade closed the door behind him and sighed again. Was he ever going to get a break?

>>>>>>

_Sherlock and his brother, Mycroft, didn't agree on a lot of things. But there were a few things they could agree on and enjoy together and one of them was stargazing._

_It was shortly before Christmas and the boys were lying on the snow covered ground, staring up at the stars above. The boys only spoke occasionally and that was to point out a constellation or ask a question._

_Shortly before midnight, fifteen year old Mycroft sat up and turned to his brother. Sherlock was half asleep, his eyes closed and his breathing deep. Mycroft gently shook his shoulder. "Come on Sherlock," Mycroft said, "we need to get home."_

_A couple minutes later, the two boys, wrapped in winter gear, made their way through the woods their parents owned to the large house. Warm beds awaited them inside._

_The walk was silent. The only sounds were the crunch of the snow beneath the brothers' feet and their heavy breathing. Then, halfway to the house, another sound reached Sherlock's ears. It sounded like crying._

_"Mycroft," Sherlock whispered, "can you hear that?" The brothers stopped walking, both listening really hard. Sherlock heard it again. A quiet cry, coming from their right. Judging by the look on Mycroft's face, he heard it too._

_Sherlock didn't hesitate; he threw himself off the small trail and into the woods, ignoring Mycroft's calls. He'd only gone a few feet before he saw a small bundle huddled against the tree, shivering violently. Sherlock approached the child cautiously. He was purposely loud, not wanting to frighten the boy by sneaking up on him._

_The child's head snapped up, his eyes immediately locking on Sherlock. He relaxed slightly, but was still too tense, his eyes wandering the woods as though looking for a threat. Sherlock took the moment to study him._

_The boy was small and skinny. He had blond hair and blue eyes. His shirt was torn and tattered, but had obviously been nice at one time. Middle class, then. What really caught Sherlock's attention was the bruises. The boy's body was covered in them. There were bruises and cuts on his face, arms, torso, and legs. His lips were tinged blue and his eyes were slightly unfocused._

_"We're not going to hurt you," Mycroft said, his voice gentle. Sherlock jumped; he hadn't heard Mycroft approach. "We want to help you."_

_The child frantically shook his head. "You can't help," he said urgently. "If he comes back, he'll hurt you too. You need to get out of here."_

_"Who? Who's coming back?"_

_The boy shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't mean to," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to. It wasn't my fault."_

_Before either of the brothers could move, the boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped down, unconscious. Mycroft moved to his side and easily swung the boy into his arms._

_"Well? What do you think Sherlock?" To anyone else, making deductions about a boy's life while he was injured and possibly dying would see barbaric, but that was how Mycroft and Sherlock controlled their emotions._

_"He obviously comes from a middle class family," Sherlock began. "No siblings, abusive father, dead mother. The father blames him for the mother's death and that leads to this."_

_Mycroft nodded approvingly._

_"That was amazing." The brother's froze at the words and looked at the boy in Mycroft's arms. His eyes were open and he was smiling slightly. "Seriously, I've never heard someone do that before. You got one thing wrong though."_

_"What?" Sherlock said, annoyed for a brief second._

_"I had a sister. She died too." Seconds later, the boy was unconscious again._

_"I thought he was asleep," Sherlock muttered. "I wouldn't have said any of that if I'd known he was awake."_

_"Didn't you hear him? He thinks its amazing."_

_"That's definitely new," Sherlock admitted. "Usually people hate it."_

_The arrived at the house. Sherlock turned to Mycroft. "We can't let him go back," he said firmly. "We have to keep him safe. No one else will do it."_

_"I agree, little brother," Mycroft assured him. "We'll talk to Mum and Father."_

_Sherlock nodded, satisfied. He wasn't quite sure what it was about this boy, whose name he didn't even know, but something about him made Sherlock feel protective._

_It was a new feeling, Sherlock thought, but not at all unwelcome._

**Author's Note:**

> In the next part, adult John and Sherlock will visit Mycroft and we'll see child John get accustomed to living with the Holmes'. Also, John's bio father makes an appearance....


End file.
